


The Determination Of A Whaler

by Amsare



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Fights, Flash Fic, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 03:14:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8649391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amsare/pseuds/Amsare
Summary: Becoming a Master Assassin is all that Thomas had ever wanted to be.





	

“Stand up.”  
   
Thomas grunts as he tries to get back on his feet, chest in pain: his opponent has hit him hard making him fall on the floor and he did not expect him to do it.  
   
“Stay focused, Thomas, Fergus is a tough one.”  
   
Daud has been watching closely both of the novices, giving his advice or urging them to attack each other. He never praises them though, because today is an important day: he will choose his new Master Assassins among the very best of the novices.  
   
Thomas is the youngest among the novices gathered in the training room, those who had the permission _to try_ to become something more.  
   
Being a master assassin means to have more responsibilities but also more powers; you get to be more skilled and closer to Daud.  
   
He has to make a good impression on him.  
   
Heart beating fast and sword in his right hand, Thomas is ready to block the next attack.  
   
“Ready?” His opponent asks as to mock him, to distract him.  
   
Thomas grins under his mask, parrying another hit, then another one; he wanted to finish that battle as the winner so he had to stay put. With a fluid movement, he blocks the other Whaler’s neck between his own body and his sword making him whine under the mask.  
   
“That’s enough.”  
   
Daud’s word is law there in the Flooded District.  
   
Thomas leaves his opponent free to make him breathe.  
   
He has no doubt: he is the winner.  
   
It’s hot under the mask so Thomas took it off, looking at Daud’s face more waiting for something.  
   
“You both fought well.”  
   
Fergus coughs, takes off his mask too: his face is red and his eyes are watering.  
  
Maybe Thomas has exaggerated into strangling him.  
  
Will it be a point in his favour or…?  
   
“Sir?” Thomas tries to urge his Master.  
   
He needs to know – he’s been dreaming this moment from the day he become a novice.  
   
Daud walks toward them, always stoic – it’s impossible to know what’s he’s thinking – and reaches for Fergus; then, to Thomas’ disbelief, he raises his hand.  
   
“Fergus is the winner.”  
   
Thomas feels his blood boils into his veins.  
   
Rage, delusion, envy.  
   
***  
   
Some days later, he’s fighting again and here he is the young man Daud has always wanted to see.  
  
He stays focused on the task – hit him, come on Thomas – and soon he’s the winner.  
  
He’s the one holding Fergus down.  
   
Daud stops right next to them and looks at him; Thomas’ heart is beating fast, he’s waiting for a sign, anything.  
   
He needs to know.  
   
“You’re ready.”  
 


End file.
